


Put on the Red Light

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Sagas of Sundry, Sagas of Sundry: Dread
Genre: Community: criticalkink, Community: trope_bingo, Inexperienced D/s, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 19:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: Tanner, Kayden, and acts for which a high school darkroom ought not be used.





	Put on the Red Light

**Author's Note:**

> Sagas of Sundry: Dread characters belong to their respective creators and are used here without thought of financial gain, and with a certain degree of preemptive shame because sooner or later _someone_ from the cast is probably going to find this. ( _Go back while you still can. This is not the way. Take heed, and go no further._ )
> 
> Many thanks to Arkham for the beta.
> 
> * * *

Tanner’s lifting the second-to-last print of the first batch out of the wash tray to hang it up to dry when Kayden comes strolling into the darkroom with complete disregard for Tanner’s work. 

“Hey!” Tanner yelps, simultaneously trying to put his body between the bright outside light and his print, shake the water off said print, and shove Kayden back out of the darkroom. 

“Chill.” Kayden steps around him and perches on the tall stool in the corner. Sometimes Sat or Raina sit there—Darby dislikes the darkness—but only ever by invitation. “Don’t you like visitors?” 

“You gotta respect the red light, man!” 

“It’s not on.” 

Tanner panics, opens the door again, only to see the patiently glowing red light warning people away. At least nobody is in sight; Kayden usually likes an audience when he pulls this sort of stupid shit. 

Speaking of which... 

“I thought you were suspended this week.” 

“Three days,” Kayden corrects. The red glow of the darkroom makes his face paler, the contrast between skin and makeup and dyed hair starker. “I’m meant to have learned my lesson by Thursday morning so I can come in all meek and mild and collect my homework to do over the weekend like a good boy.” 

“So why the fuck are you on campus at—” Tanner checks his watch “—four on Wednesday afternoon?” 

“I had something I wanted to study?” 

Tanner turns back to his work, pretending not to notice the way that Kayden’s looking at him. “You don’t take photography.” 

“Maybe I wanna take a photographer.” 

“ _Jesus_ .” Tanner fishes the last print out of the fixer bath, lets it drip for a second, and puts it into the wash tray. “If you’ve fucked these up you’re not going to be doing anything other than refilling the developer trays so I can start over.” 

Kayden goes quiet for a minute, which is something of a miracle. Tanner loses himself in the routine of keeping the water flowing over the print. The others seem to be drying fine; it’s these last two he’s most concerned about, thanks to the line of light from the door to the bench. Other places he’s done developing in have had a second door or at least a curtain, like an airlock, but a high school— 

The flick and flare of a lighter behind him explains why Kayden’s been quiet so long. Tanner turns around to see Kayden taking a hit off a fat joint that must have taken all of his attention to roll. 

“You can’t hotbox the darkroom, asshole! Put that out!” Tanner drops the wash tray in the sink and flicks water at Kayden. 

Kayden slowly releases his lungful of smoke, looking mournful. “You know I can’t focus without something in my mouth.” 

Tanner sees red, crosses the tiny room in two long steps, and hauls Kayden off the stool by his hair. Kayden goes to his knees with a grin on his face, already butting the joint out on the concrete floor. 

“You know what to do,” Tanner snaps, and indeed Kayden is already doing it, hands deft on Tanner’s belt buckle, working to free Tanner from his jeans and boxers. 

When he takes Tanner’s cock into his mouth they both groan: Tanner from the pleasure of Kayden’s knowing lips and tongue; Kayden from the release of whatever nervous tension he’s carrying today. 

Tanner leans back against the bench, one hand gripping its chemical-scarred wooden surface, the other locked into Kayden’s hair, holding him close if not quite still. Kayden is never entirely still. 

He can feel every labored breath, every rough gulp, the stroke and flick of Kayden’s tongue along his length. Kayden has one hand wrapped around the bench leg, holding himself steady; the other roams between Tanner’s shaft and balls and ass indiscriminately. 

Tanner can’t last long against the assault of Kayden’s greed. He does tap Kayden’s cheek when he’s close, but Kayden just flips him the bird and swallows him down. 

Kayden sits back on his heels when he’s done, palm pressed idly against the front of his black pants. Tanner pulls his own pants back up and refastens them. 

“I love fucking with your head,” Kayden says from the floor. 

Tanner sighs. “Maybe next time you need this, give me some kind of warning.” 

Kayden bats his eyelashes. “It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if you knew it was coming.” 

“So maybe next time _I’m_ coming I’ll let it be a surprise.” 

Kayden gets up, sits back on the stool, kicking his heels against its legs. “Sounds like fun.” 

Tanner really doesn’t _get_ Kayden a lot of the time. 

The roll of film he was planning to develop next is fucked. He’s got to find a way to lock the door, or at least put as much of the setup out of the line of light as he can. He shakes it under Kayden’s nose and Kayden makes a sad little puppy noise. 

“What do you _want_ ?” 

Kayden lowers his eyes in a parody of demureness. “You know.” 

Tanner _does_ know. This is maybe the fourth time that Kayden’s done this and he’s given up trying to make sense of it. Whatever it is in Kayden that likes being used calls to some part of Tanner that’s perfectly okay with using him. 

He tosses the destroyed film in the trash and moves along the row of hanging prints: the earlier ones are fine, but the last two have weird streaks and shapes on them. 

When Kayden realizes that Tanner’s not going to give in right away, he starts kicking the stool legs again. Tanner doesn’t turn around, squinting at the final prints. This roll is mostly pictures that he’s taken around campus in the early morning and late evening, dutifully capturing buildings and trees and the like for the sake of at least looking like he knows what his final portfolio will consist of. 

The last four pictures, though, are of the group. His people. His real photos. 

In the first one Kayden’s playing dead on the ground and Sat, Darby, and Raina each have a foot on his torso and a fist raised in the air. 

In the second one Darby and Raina are kneeling and Sat’s behind them, making like a cheerleader about to do a fancy jump, except she’s rolling her eyes. 

In the third one, Darby’s sitting in the library, looking down at a book and twirling a pen between her fingers, but either poor exposure or Kayden’s crappy timing has left her with dark streaks coming off her head like horns. 

In the fourth one, Kayden’s blowing a smoke ring, and the same dark streaks encircle it, as though he’s exhaling shadows. Which Tanner is _not_ going to point out, because he can deal with Kayden’s weird neediness or Kayden’s manic-depressive ego, but not both at once. 

He hears the scuff of Kayden’s boots on the floor and then feels Kayden’s arms creep around his waist. 

“They came out great.” 

“They’re okay.” 

“Stop being so fucking self-deprecating.” Kayden’s lips find the nape of Tanner’s neck and Tanner shivers. “I like the effects on the last two. How did you do that?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Kayden’s hands slip under Tanner’s shirt, stroking over bare flesh. “Are you going to try to do it again?” 

“Probably not.” Tanner turns in Kayden’s arms and drapes his own arms around Kayden’s shoulders. “I can think of better things to do.” 

“Oh, I was _hoping_ you’d say that.” 

Then they’re kissing, and Tanner can taste himself on Kayden’s tongue, and if he hadn’t already warmed up to the notion of getting no further developing done this afternoon, this would take him entirely out of his work headspace. 

Kayden gets Tanner’s jeans open again and his cock, hard once more, back out. They always fuck with most of their clothing on, not that it will _really_ make a difference if one of the art teachers decides to check and see how Tanner’s work is coming along. Apart from anything else, Kayden’s never been able to feign innocence. 

Kayden’s brought condoms and lube stuffed into one of his numerous jacket pockets, but sheds the jacket itself, tossing it onto the bench. He unbuttons Tanner’s shirt and that’s as close as they get to skin on skin: Tanner’s bare chest pressed against Kayden’s Misfits t-shirt (which is honestly kind of fucking creepy, but Tanner’s plenty distracted). 

“I fingerfucked myself for an hour before I came here,” he says conversationally, pushing his thigh between Tanner’s. “Just in case you were really busy and didn’t have time.” 

Tanner groans, working Kayden’s pants open: they fall to Kayden’s ankles with a jingle of chains. “Turn around. Against the bench.” 

Kayden turns, bends, folds his arms on the bench to keep himself semi-upright. He looks back over his shoulder at Tanner. “Do it.” 

Tanner finds and opens a condom, rolling it on and stuffing the wrapper into his shirt pocket; he has no idea if the janitor checks the trash but would rather not find out. Despite Kayden’s insistence that he’s ready, he squirts lube onto his fingers and checks for himself. 

“Jesus Christ, Tanner, come _on_ —” 

Kayden really is quite open and ready, but Tanner keeps him waiting a little longer, fingering him until Kayden’s whining and hitching back against Tanner’s hand. Then he scrubs his fingers clean on a paper towel that he belatedly hopes doesn’t have any chemicals on it. 

He uses that hand to grip Kayden’s hip, his other hand to guide his cock into Kayden’s ass and, though he knows he lacks experience compared to some people he imagines Kayden fucks, Kayden makes a gorgeous low animalistic noise when he pushes in. 

“ _Yes_ —” 

“Keep it down.” Tanner shoves in deeper and bites Kayden’s neck. “The room’s not soundproof.” 

They’ve had this conversation before; they will almost definitely have it again before the end of the school year. 

Kayden just keeps on making noise, and Tanner would think he was being melodramatic if not for the fact that he can feel the tension in Kayden’s body, especially where his mouth touches Kayden’s neck. 

He can’t really complain all that much though, because he loves making Kayden make those noises: gasping and groaning, sometimes a combination of the two. Whimpering when Tanner pulls back or when Tanner teases him with tiny little movements; growling in delight when Tanner thrusts back inside him. 

“Fuck—Tanner— _harder_ —” Kayden’s hand creeps between his own legs and Tanner can feel him starting to jerk off with short rough motions. 

On impulse, Tanner grabs Kayden’s wrist. 

“You don’t get to come until I say you can.” 

“Oh, you’re getting _good_ at this.” Kayden obediently puts both hands palm down on the bench and looks back at Tanner again. “Come on. Bring it.” 

Tanner grits his teeth and keeps going, fueled by an unexpected rush of adrenaline. His hands find Kayden’s wrists and grip them tightly, and Kayden lets out a helpless little sound that strikes straight into Tanner’s cock. If he hadn’t come once already that would’ve set him off. As it is he has to deliberately inhale the acrid chemical smell of the darkroom to pull himself back a little from the edge. 

“What do you get out of this, huh?” His skin slaps against Kayden’s as he fucks Kayden as hard as he can bring himself to. “Besides the obvious. What does this do for you?” 

Kayden says nothing, but Tanner can feel his shoulders move in a shrug. 

He’s not sure he wants to know, anyway. He’s not sure that, if it turns out to be more than just Kayden being weird (which is synonymous with Kayden being _Kayden_ ), he can let himself continue. 

(He’s not sure he’d be able to stop. Not with Kayden as hot and tight and needy as he is.) 

So he bites Kayden’s neck again, this time with the intent of leaving a visible mark. Kayden’s body stiffens under him and Tanner feels him clench tight around Tanner’s cock. 

“You’d better not come yet.” 

“Biting good,” Kayden says somewhat incoherently. 

“I’ll stop.” 

“Don’t stop.” 

Tanner bites down and sucks hard. He can feel the quivering tension in Kayden’s body as he tries to hold back. His fingers scrabble at the benchtop and he lets out a series of murmurs, “Tanner, Tanner, _please_ , harder,” that sound sincere rather than goading. 

Tanner lifts his head to admire his handiwork, a deep bruise surrounded by tooth marks. “There,” he says, “you’re mine,” and Kayden cries out, hips rutting against the bench as he comes. 

It’s not what Tanner was expecting, but _fuck_ it works for him. Kayden’s still shooting his balls dry when Tanner comes inside him, both of them beyond the point of caring about how much noise they make. 

Besides, it’s not like Kayden’s really on campus anyway. He’s suspended, therefore he can’t be here making any noise, and he certainly can’t be sagging bonelessly against the bench, relying on it and Tanner’s body pinning him to stay upright. 

When Tanner pulls out, pinching the base of the condom, Kayden does slide to the floor. Tanner drops a couple of paper towels on Kayden’s head and cleans himself up, bundling everything into the trash lavishly wrapped in more paper towels. If the janitor gets nosy that’s just bad luck; he’s not carrying _that_ out in his shirt pocket. His thighs and calves ache; the latter feel strangely strained and he realizes he was up on his toes at least part of the time, angling for more depth. 

When he’s done, tucked and zipped and buttoned away, Kayden’s still sprawled on the floor, leaning against the sturdy leg of the bench. He’s relocated the paper towels to his lap but that’s about it. The grin on his face is soft and dazed. If the predominant smell in the room weren’t still chemicals—now tinged with more than a hint of sex—Tanner would think he’d managed to stealth smoke the rest of the joint in the last minute. 

Tanner drops to one knee beside Kayden. “Come on, man. You need to clean up and then I think we need to get out of here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, come snuggle with me.” 

“Kayden... one, you don’t snuggle, and two, you’re on a concrete fucking floor.” Tanner starts briskly dabbing at the come on Kayden’s cock and pubes before noticing that most of it’s dripped onto the floor under the bench. “Jesus Christ. I should make you lick that up.” 

Kayden cracks one eye open. “What if I said I would?” 

Tanner’s stomach backflips because for a second he can picture it all too well. 

“Just fucking with you.” 

Tanner doesn’t quite believe him. 

It takes a few more minutes to get Kayden and the floor cleaned up and Kayden back on his feet, during which it occurs to Tanner that maybe, just maybe, Kayden’s not feigning the effect Tanner has on him. It’s an idea he toys with from time to time, afraid to look at it too closely because of what it might mean. 

Eventually there’s no especial evidence of their encounter, and Kayden lounges on the tall stool once more, waiting for Tanner to finish cleaning up the more ordinary messes of the afternoon, dumping nostril-stinging liquid down the heavy-duty industrial sink and wiping the bench down. He leaves the prints; they’re not all the way dry, but at this time in the afternoon nobody’s going to come in and disrupt them. 

The disruptive influence of the day already came. 

Tanner snickers at his own unintentional double entendre and washes his hands thoroughly, replacing the smell of chemicals and sex with a bland, vaguely citrus scent. 

Kayden, on the other hand, still smells beautifully debauched. Tanner leans in a little closer to him, eyes half closing as he inhales, and suddenly Kayden’s mouth is on his again, this time softer, more yielding. 

“Tanner.” 

“Mmmh?” 

“I do too snuggle.” For a second he sounds like a first-grader instead of a senior. 

“We could go back to your—no, we could go back to my—no. Shit.” Tanner sighs. 

“Why don’t we _both_ go and see what Sat’s doing?” 

It’s the best solution, really. Tanner’s as certain that Sat knows there’s something between him and Kayden as he is that there’s something between Kayden and Sat. He’s not sure what that _something_ is, but it’s sure as shit there. 

Maybe it’s time to start talking about it. 

There are a whole lot of _maybes_ that follow on from there. Some of them are perilous; a good two-thirds of them start turning Tanner on all over again. 

He kisses Kayden one more time—for now—and ushers him out of the darkroom, turning the safelight off on the way. 

Neither of them notice how the dark streaks on the final two photographs glow red like embers for a lingering moment after the light goes out. 


End file.
